Invisible to the two was a smirk in response to their brand of humor as they shook the hand of the man who introduced themselves as Sir Zedekiah Patronus, 'Zed' for short. With a nudge of express expectancy phrased in the way of expectance, Aark nodded to the two men and left them to their work in favor of ascending the stairs to the main lobby. In the process, they passed by Darvus and offered a bow in stride as the guards greeted them. Exactly which 'highness' they were, Aark couldn't be sure of at a mere glance.
An eerie tone emanated from the congregation of odd individuals, all apparently arriving for a similar purpose. Why else would so many oddities be gathered in the same place at the same time? While wondering how many they would be in association with, their ear caught the muttered tones of one of the individuals, more inclined to lounge with their weapon and...mutter in an all-too-familiar tongue.

Their helmet was all too haunting. Something seemed familiar in a way I was keen on investigating. The world is small, and us noble animals that wander it do so for a reason. This being known, there was a question that was burning at my curiosity since I first conceived of this idea that I should be serving with strangers; how desperate was the king?

[color=a187be]"Guten tag..."[/color] Aarkenhan greeted in Nebel's direction as a door opened to the side of the hall and half of a dozen middle-aged servant ladies rushed out. The knight's tone was laced with a hiss of suspicion of a very direct nature, likely aimed towards Nebel's appearance. With stark knowledge of the land, any humor intended to be expressed by the ominous getup was lost in a very negative manner by Aark. [color=a187be]"Machin wir-"[/color] was the end of their questioning as they were immediately beset by the servants who took handfuls of grungy fabric and edges of armor to lead them away.
[color=a187be]"I-I Beg your pardon but I-!"[/color] the towering knight began to resist, wholly capable in stature to likely lift the entire congregation, but still complying enough to stumble in the direction they were dragging them, a few steps.

"Y'smell like tha road!" one barked in interruption before being joined by another, "N'ye trackin' [i]oooll[/i] manner a'filth!"
True and...[i]probably[/i] true on the part of the former, Aark had arrived on foot, lacking the luxury of appropriate transport, given the circumstance. While the etchings on mithril and gildings of fabric were apparent, all was begrimed by the toils of flight. Truly a shame, and- "Y'naught see tha king, such as y'is!"

Aark groaned and relented, the oppressive attention within the darkness of their helmet that once focused on Nebel instead turning in the direction of where they were being dragged, luckily in time to tilt their head so the tip of their helmet would not strike the doorframe. The door closed shortly after, and the fading sound of clanking metal and muffled curses in old accents hinted to the knight being dragged off.